Heart of Hogwarts
by jmo238
Summary: A chance meeting in the kitchens late at night intertwines two unlikely people as the war ramps up and their roles gain in importance. HG/SS. Not for Ron lovers. T for now, but maybe M later. Set in 6th year and stays true to books.
1. Chapter 1

Heart of Hogwarts

Just a stroke of inspiration I had with my new love for Hermione and Severus pairings. Let's consider the first couple of chapters as a bit of a pilot run. I've seen all the films of course, but I grew up with the books and will try to be as true to them as possible.

I don't have a beta and I studied economics in university so if the grammar is atrocious, I apologize in advanced.

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Chapter 1

Term had just started and already Severus Snape was fed up with the lack-witted ankle bitters Albus tries to pass off as students. Not even two weeks in and a bench had been melted by a second year Hufflepuff, half of the third shelf in his store room had been obliterated, and Neville Longbottom had managed to explode not one, but two cauldrons in the past week alone. To add insult to injury, his own private research was at a standstill, and the Dark Lord was summoning him more than ever. At the current rate either Severus was going to have a mental breakdown by Christmas or Poppy was going to be treating half the school for PTSD from him venting his spleen to stem his ire.

What he needed was a long walk through the darkened corridors to deduct copious housepoints from a few arrogant Gryffindors too good to abide school rules. That and perhaps a strong cup of coffee with a chocolate biscuit or two that he so secretly desired.

With a swish of his woolen teaching ropes, the Potions Master exited his chambers from deep within the dungeons to prowl through the empty halls; mind busy and pace swift.

...

Just because term had started didn't mean her professors hadn't piled high homework assignments. Flitwick had set a two foot essay on charm etymology and its application to charm construction and alterations, McGonagall wanted animate to inanimate transformations of small vertebrates perfected by Friday, and tomorrow was double potions with Slytherin brewing anti-venoms from an unknown venom. Their N.E.W.T. years were shaping up to be the hardest yet and predictably Gryffindor common room mirrored that of a frat party scene Hermione had seen play out in the cinemas over summer holiday.

"Come on 'Mione! We need another for Exploding Snap." Ron garbled around a mouth full of what might have been a chocolate frog or perhaps a handful of cockroach clusters.

"I already told you that I have more work to do. I still need to research anti-venoms and do a second revision on my charms essay." She said exasperated.

"Your essay is fine 'Mione. You study too much and term's just started. Give it a rest!" Harry said, shuffling the cards.

Shaking her head and slamming a potions book closed, Hermione began gathering her quills and parchments. Without a look back, she crawled through the hole, out the portrait, and down the corridor.

No doubt, the boys had rolled their eyes and assumed she was making her way to the library as had been her habit during their formative years, but in fact she wasn't heading towards the library at all. Not that she disabused either of the two of that notion, because just as she'd let fly that her true destination was the kitchens, most assuredly, Ron would be leading the way, dragging _her_ behind. How he didn't weight 15 stones was beyond her.

It wasn't until her fourth year that she'd discovered the kitchens thank's to Fred and George. The kitchens weren't necessarily a secret at Hogwarts; after all, the food had to come from somewhere, but to her the cavernous space below the Great Hall had been _her_ little secret - an escape from her peers and a chance to release some stress by doing what she loved most; cooking.

Not that she advertised that, of course. Cooking seemed an oddly muggle past time.

By now, in their 6th year, navigating her way from the seventh floor to the basement was old hat. Going back up wasn't always quite so easy as she tended to lose time, but no matter how long past curfew she'd stayed, she always seemed to manage her way back to the tower without being caught.

 _Quiet tonight,_ she thought as she past the library on the second floor. _No matter, I'd rather a properly brewed cuppa with some fresh scones. Or maybe I'll give that chocolate biscuit recipe another go._

Lost in thought, she came across the large still life much more quickly than she anticipated. A small smile creeped upon her lips as she reached out to inconspicuously ticket the pear nestled in the fruit bowel, then turned the green handle and slipped through the door.

Whoever said that the kitchen was the heart of the home must of had Hogwarts on the mind, because it surely was the heart of her home here in the castle.

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Reviews welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

Heart of Hogwarts

I have some thoughts on direction, but the plot isn't outlined 100%. Sometimes I like things to wander on their own. I don't have an update plan, but really don't have too much going on with my life, so the hopes include a chapter a week, if not more.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2

Immediately upon her arrival, she was rushed by a handful of house elves. It had taken them the whole of second term during her 4th year for them to trust her again after the S.P.E.W. debacle. A small part of her still fought for elvish welfare, but now that she better understood house elves, she no longer felt the impulsive need to hand out hats to every elf that passed her.

"Mistress Hermione, welcome!"

"What can we gets for you?"

"Would Mistress Hermione like a pot of tea?"

"Or a scone?"

"A biscuit!"

Their greetings made her heart grow warm and another knot of anxiety untangled itself. This was her first trip down since she was back in the castle and it made her wish she had come down sooner.

"Hi Tippy, Nimsey, Qwerky, and you too Dobby. How is Winky?" She asked, looking around at each one. It had taken her quite some time to discern who was who, but by now she knew most of the Hogwarts's one hundred elves either by name or at least by sight.

"Winky is well." The little elf squeaked. "Winky is happy serving the Head Girl and Head Boy. Winky thanks Mistress for suggesting its."

Hermione smiled. Winky had been in such a bad way after being given clothes by Crouch. She had originally been the driving force behind S.P.E.W., but there was no denying how horrific the little elf felt at being dismissed. Where Dobby embraced the freedom and pay, Winky equally abhorred it.

"I think I'll just make myself a cuppa." Hermione said, striding towards the staff table's twin. Like the Great Hall, the Kitchens featured four long tables, capped with another at the helm. Each table was a deep chestnut, etched with scrapes, weathered groves, and 'lived in' wear and tare that showcased its centuries of use. With the ease of a familiar occupant, she tossed her book bag to her favorite spot, and headed for the kettle.

The secret to a great cup of tea starts with knowing how to properly brew a cup. You could have the world's best tea leaves, but if you took a short cut it could become the world's worst right quick. Her particular blend of choice for a late night study session was a blend of an Irish and a Scottish breakfast tea. It was strong and perfect with one cube of sugar to cut the maltiness and a dab of cream to be a bit indulgent.

The elves knew she preferred to actually prepare her own pot; the motions repetitive and calming. Even still, they couldn't resist the temptation to serve. Her favorite pot, the off white one with a chip at the spout, appeared next to her tin of tea, and instantly the kettle whistled.

Not one to let a moment of inspiration skulk in the corner, Hermione instantly went for the canister of flour and started what would be the best possible pairing for her cup of tea - vanilla bean scones.

Finally, settling into her spot in front of the fire, Hermione closed her eyes, took a sip of tea, a nibble of scone and lost herself in Advanced Potion-Making. _Antiquity designates anti-venom serums as compliments to venoms, and therefore their opposites. Modern brewing, however, acknowledges that an anti-venom as a compilation of specific counters to known antigens found in a decomposed venom. When dealing with an unknown, abstracting is difficult, but not impossible should the brewer…._

 _…_

Without meaning too, Severus had managed his way down to the basement and in front of the portrait that stood guard to the Kitchens. Preferring to take his coffee in the privacy of his rooms, rarely did he actually go to the Kitchens for anything. Hell, Dumbledore was lucky Snape made it to two of the three meals in the Great Hall each day. Figuring a break in his routine might help him sort out his latest trouble, a single finger emerged from the sea of black wool to tickle the pear and grasp the green handle.

Just in the door, he stopped short at the sight of a hunched figure across the room. One lone elf dared to approach him from the huddle on the side of the room, but with a sharp look that left first years crying, the elf retreated back. Safety in numbers, after all.

It didn't appear as though the figure had noticed his appearance. He scoffed, _Just because Hogwarts was safe was no reason to let one's guard down._ With the light step born from years as a spy, he approached the head table, gradually making out a haze of frizzy honey colored hair that could only crown Gryffindor's most studious. A quick glance at his pocket watch confirmed that it was well past curfew. Severus's night just got that much better.

"One would think that a Prefect such as yourself, Miss Granger, would show more than a modicum of respect for the rules. But I suppose as a Gryffindor, we can only assume you are afforded greater liberties than the rest of us."

Clearly startled by the break in solitude, a deft hand aiming for the handle of a tea cup veered dramatically off course to unsettle a neighboring ink well.

"Fu…"

"I dare you to finish that utterance, Miss Granger." Seeing her squirm delighted him. The prim and proper Golden Gryffindor leaping to save her artifacts from the seeping ink all while speaking so casually, and in the presence of a teacher no less.

"Professor!" She exclaimed, chancing for a moment her eyes upon his visage. He crossed his arms and waited as the girl cleaned the spilled ink from her books and parchment with a hasty _tergeo_.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for such foul use of language, Miss Granger. Pray tell, what absolves you from curfew, paving way for free reign of the kitchens? Are you finding the library's hours severely lacking, or is your common room too unbefitting to be used for its intended means? Perhaps you fancy yourself a scholar of such achievement and accolade as to warrant your own private antechamber with help at your beck and call?! Or perhaps you find yourself too greatly inconvenienced by the prescribed meal times, and therefore find it admissible to kip down for a _snack_ whenever you feel even the slightest of rumbles from your stomach?! Well, I'm waiting." He let loose every ounce of irritation into that one diatribe. _How dare any student trespass upon his one chance wander into the Kitchens!_

"I…I…" Her eyes were wide and slightly taken aback by the venom poured into each sharp syllable.

…

She stared at his snarled expression, completely taken aback by the angry force he used. By her third year, the fright she felt in the presence of the Potions Master had graduated to respect and by her fifth, admiration. But even then, his ability to completely eviscerate a person in a proper dressing down left her frightened and mildly offended. _How dare he yell at her for studying to much, and potions at that!_

"Loquacious as ever." He sneered. Her brain was having trouble catching up with the situation. Her tea had long since gone cold and the once roaring fire had been banked to a managed flame. _Lord, have I really been here so long? Usually the elves have ushered me out before the hour became too unreasonable_.

"I was studying, sir. I didn't realize the hour had become so late. I apologize."

"Twenty points for not answering me. Are you questioning my intelligence, Miss Granger, or have students now found a way to play silly games with _Valued Venoms and their Variables_? Clearly you were studying. What I want to know is why your per…"

"Well, sir…" she tried to head him off before he got started on another tirade.

"Interrupt me again and you will find out just how many uses for the hair and blood of a virgin that I can find."

Instantly she blushed and looked down. The air hung like an unwanted house guest as she wasn't sure whether her words would be welcome or if he was intending to finish the diatribe he'd started.

Sensing the awkwardness wasn't to abate on its own, she quietly added, "The Kitchens are quiet, sir. I come down here to study when I need to get away, or to cook when I'm too stressed. There are scones, sir, fresh. I'll just be leaving. Good night, Professor Snape." without waiting any longer, she scooped up her books and ran for the door. Usually she took the time to wash her tea service, felt just this once, that it would be best for all involved if the elves took care of that. Quietly she swung open the portrait and disappeared into the night.

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Well, what do we think of that? Please review. They make me feel happy.


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